9/18/10

With the Nation's Triathlon, primary elections, Microeconomics, Accounting, et al., I've been too busy this week to do Stand up. Not even thinking about it.

That's why today was perfect to get back on the River where the peaceful sounds of the River lapping rhythmically against my board whispered my name, ever so gently, until I fell in a trance.

Launching from West Potomac Park, I had to fight hard to make headway against the ruthless wind, maneuvering my board cutting sharp angles into the wind. As I coasted my way under Memorial Bridge, I could see a fleet of rowers pushing their sleek boats arduously through the water, the Coxswain yelling at the top of her lungs.

As I made my way to the Georgetown waterfront, paddling had taken everything out of me. My arms, shoulders, back, glutes, even my feet were feeling the writhing pain of hundreds upon hundreds of upstrokes. That's when I went in, plunging without much of a splash. The water was cooler than I expected, dipping down in the low 70s -- a lot cooler than last week at the Nation's Triathlon.

And soon, I was swimming my best crawl stroke all the way to Key Bridge. My board leashed to my ankle zig zagged behind me. The current was calm, the wind had died down, and the Potomac felt the freshest ever.

Overhead, I could sense the inquisitive stares of runners, cyclists, pedestrians crossing from Roslyn to Georgetown and back.

"Just what is this nut case doing?"

"Is this guy out of his mind?"

But on this beautiful early fall day, nothing could be more sane than to spend it floating on the glorious Potomac.